


Breathe

by thefatesallow (comewhatmay)



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst/Comfort, Comfort Sex, M/M, Mentions of Canonical Character Death, Reaction Fic - The Quarterback
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 02:00:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comewhatmay/pseuds/thefatesallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5x03 reaction fic!</p><p>Kurt is beginning to cope and Blaine is learning to breathe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> 5x03 reaction fic! Set immediately after the events of the episode.

Blaine stares at the ceiling of his bedroom and tries to breathe.

Kurt is a warm quiet bundle curled into him, chest rising softly, serenely in sleep and Blaine tries to match the tempo of his breath, tries to not let the hitches in his own wake Kurt.

Kurt needs the sleep. His face looks so pale and tired and  _weary_  in the soft afternoon light. The world has worn him down one too many times.

Blaine runs a hand up Kurt's warm shoulders, glad to at least be able to hold him, glad that Kurt is feeling up to being touched and held again, glad that Kurt is finally feeling up to letting go of himself enough to let someone  _else_  hold him together. 

When the world shatters  _this_  horribly, Kurt closes down and shuts himself away, shies away from contact and comfort. Holds the many jagged pieces of himself together painfully tight (as though to reassure himself he  _can_ ) before he finally feels able to seek comfort in others. Blaine's seen it before. He's seen it before when Kurt was rejected from NYADA, those first few days of strange half-smiles and brittle edges till Kurt broke in his arms one night.

He remembers Christmas night in New York and Kurt right next to him yet so far away, hesitant in every look and touch and smile. And Blaine lay alone on the couch there that night, breath catching in his lungs, hating himself just that little bit more for what he'd done, his stupid  _stupid_ mistake, that got them to this strange disconnected, walled-off land. But then Kurt showed up and crawled into his arms, cried silently as he whispered his fears for his father and  _cancer_ , and Blaine held him through it, breathing, breathing.

Yes, Blaine's done this before. Blaine's done this more times than he ever wanted to do, because holding Kurt together means Kurt  _breaks_  first. And there is something wrong in a world that breaks someone this precious and beautiful so many times.

There's something wrong with a world that breaks good people at all.

Earlier that morning, in the choir room watching Rachel sing, feeling the grief like a shroud around every single person. He was trying not to choke, Kurt's hand warm in his, Kurt alive and breathing next to him, while the tiny broken girl sang and Blaine's heart clouded with pain for her, with loss and grief for everyone. He wants to help but this isn't something he _can_  help. This isn't something  _anyone_  can fix. He felt his heart break all over again.

Because how can a person even begin to try and understand that? How can you even begin to understand a  _wrong_  in your life that can never be made right, your own helplessness and the finality of something that can just never change?

How can a person even begin to cope with losing the one that holds their heart?

Kurt is warm and soft and safe curled into him now, his arms around Blaine's waist, legs tangled heavy over Blaine's, head on Blaine's chest, right over his heartbeat; as though Kurt needs the reassurance, even while he reassures Blaine with his warm soft weight. 

Blaine draws him even closer and tries to breathe.

He tried to be there for Kurt over the past month. Tried to be something Kurt could hold onto in this upturned, nonsensical world where a person (a friend, a brother, a son, a lover) lived one minute and was gone the next, leaving empty space and empty hearts that try to keep beating. Tried to be Kurt's anchor, like Kurt always is to him. Even when all Kurt wanted was to float, to be left to float just a little longer, holding himself aloof and away, keeping himself untethered.

Death has touched Kurt's life too many times.

He wouldn't even look at Blaine those first few days, as though looking at Blaine reminded him of one more loss the world could throw his way to break him. He wouldn't even let Blaine touch him. Not even at the funeral, Blaine standing side-by-side with the broken family that had knit itself whole only to be broken again, as they all tried to absorb the  _finality_  of a Finn-shaped hole for the rest of their lives, and Blaine just wanted to _hold_  him.

He wouldn't even look at Blaine.

But then the funeral was over and Blaine turned away, desperately wanting to do something,  _anything_  for the family he's come to love as his own, but also not wanting to intrude on them at a time like this.

He had turned away to leave them, to find some other way to make himself useful and – a tug on his sleeve, warm fingers brushing the back of his hand. Blaine whipped around, startled and stared at Kurt's pale, tear-stained face, eyes bluer than the spring sky around them. Blaine held out his hand tentatively, a promise, an offer, if Kurt wanted it.

And Kurt reached out and took it.

Blaine tried to be everything Kurt's family would want over the past month. ( _His_  family one day, the gold ring on Kurt's finger reminded him. Almost his family already.) He ran errands for Carole and Burt, trying to at least provide the comforts of their house when their hearts could find no comfort. He tried to be everything any of his friends would want, going over to Sam's to watch movies with him and giving him a hug when he saw him crying; nights of ice cream at Tina's, providing the proverbial shoulder to cry on. Trying to help glee club keep moving when Mr.Schue would just stand and stare blankly at the wall.

He tried very hard to be there for everyone over the last month. Maybe he should have tried just as hard to be there for  _himself_  because now he is here and he can't  _breathe_.

The hitches in his breath are getting louder and tears gather in his eyes and he feels Kurt snuffling against him, moving as though he is waking and Blaine tries to stop. Kurt needs to  _sleep_ , Kurt's lost so much more than he has, Kurt needs him and Blaine should stop, but he can't  _seem_  to stop, he can't stop, stop, stop.

"Blaine?" Kurt's head is tilted up, squinting at him sleepily, growing more awake by the second.

"It's nothing go back to sleep," Blaine manages, lifting a hasty hand to wipe at his eye. "I was just having a minute, I'm fine. Sleep."

"No," Kurt says determinedly, shifting so his chin is propped up on Blaine's chest. He looks sleep-mussed and tired, but very alert, piercing eyes completely focused on Blaine, as though he's seeing right through Blaine's facade, seeing right into his heart.

Blaine's breathing is starting to go funny again and his face is scrunching up and gosh this is pathetic, he's the one who's supposed to be comforting  _Kurt_ , Kurt lost someone in his family, Kurt who's already lost a mother has now lost a  _brother_  too and here he is crying on him when _Kurt_  came here seeking comfort and safety and -

"Oh sweetie," Kurt says in an exhale and suddenly he's wrapped up in the warm cocoon of Kurt's arms, his face buried in the familiar curve of Kurt's neck. Blaine blinks and cries and breathes.

"Sorry," he tries to say, though how much of it comes out coherent he's not sure. "I'm sorry I just don't know why it all suddenly feels too much, it's just this entire month and everyone and now Rachel's here and I can't even _imagine_  - I can't even imagine how she is still standing and breathing, she is so brave, because if it were  _me,_ if anything ever happened to _you_ -" Blaine's voice breaks and he can't even say it without feeling his very heart crumple, feeling like his lungs are collapsing. He burrows even more fiercely into Kurt's body, wraps himself even more securely into the warm embrace, because Kurt's  _here_  and  _alive_ and  _breathing_ ,and Blaine hates himself for being glad for that when Finn  _isn't_ and never will be.  But nothing can make Blaine not glad about having Kurt, there is nothing he won't do to keep  _Kurt_  safe.

"Shh," Kurt says, petting his hair like he's comforting a bruised, scared animal. "Shh, it's fine, it'll be fine. We'll get through this, it'll be fine. Shh." Death has touched Kurt's life too many times.

But this is the first time it has touched Blaine's.

Sure, he has grandparents who died when he was barely four, dead aunts he's never even talked to, but never someone so young, never someone so _close_.

("Good luck, bro," he had said, his grin evident even in his voice, when Blaine called him two days before the proposal. "And now soon we'll actually be bros! Man, I wish I could be there, Kurt's gonna   _freak_. I just don't think I can get away right now, y'know? Send me a video! And tell Sam I call dibs on best man duties at the wedding. That job is  _mine_."

It'll never be his now.)

Kurt has lowered Blaine onto the bed again, his body lying completely on top of him, pushing him into the mattress, grounding him with his reassuring weight. Blaine's head rests on the pillow and he tries to breathe, slowly, in and out, in and out. Kurt's mouth plants soft little kisses across Blaine's face, soft loving brushes of his lips against Blaine's forehead, the tip of his nose, his right eyelid, the corner of his mouth. Blaine breathes.

"When you left for New York again," he whispers to the ceiling as Kurt moves to kiss his collarbone. Kurt's mouth pauses there, listening. "When you left again, right after the funeral. I nearly had a panic attack because you were on a  _plane_  and going hundreds of miles away and there was no way I could keep you safe."

"I'm here, Blaine," Kurt whispers into Blaine's skin, a promise. "I'll always be here."

Blaine's learning now that sometimes, even when people keep their promises, life can intervene and break it for them.

"You've been so good, Blaine," Kurt says into the skin behind Blaine's ear, nuzzles there. "I don't even know how I'd have made it through the last few weeks without you. I was only able to go back to New York because I knew I could trust you to look after Dad and Carole. You don't know how much you've  _helped_. I feel so safe with you. I feel like I can at least _try_  to cope, just knowing you are there and mine."

"I'll always be there for you," Blaine chokes back, a promise for a promise. 

Kurt moves back up, kisses away the few fresh teardrops from the corners of Blaine's eyes. "Tell me what you need," he murmurs.

"You," Blaine says, because isn't that always true? "You, I just need  _you_."

Kurt kisses him, mouth moving slowly over Blaine's, tasting of salty tears and fatigue and love. Blaine grips Kurt's face, pulls him closer, tighter. Kurt's hands start moving, unbuttoning Blaine's shirt.

They haven't done this for over a month. Haven't felt up to losing themselves in one another, when all they would find would be grief.

The last time they were intimate was right after their engagement, that endless night and that bright morning, where the world seemed to be made of happiness, where everything was breathless kisses and hope and love and the ring on Kurt's finger. 

Their world has turned drastically since then.

But the love is still there, that is one thing that hasn't changed. The one thing that Blaine knows will never change. Kurt kisses down his body and he just  _loosens_ , like the knot tying up his lungs has just unfurled, vanished. He takes a deep breath, breathes in the scent of him, familiar and comforting.

Blaine lies back and lets Kurt make him feel safe.

Everything is soft, comforting. Kurt gets rid of all their clothes, settles fully on top of him, kissing him gently, skin against flushed skin everywhere. Blaine lets his legs part and Kurt moves in between them, moves closer, moans into his mouth. He doesn't taste like tears anymore, he just tastes like  _them_. Blaine gets lost in him.

After a month of holding on, a month of holding up, he lets go.

Kurt slides into him, slow and careful, and moves in him steadily, little reassuring kisses broken off by choked moans. Blaine wraps his legs around Kurt's waist, wraps his arms around Kurt's neck, feels wrapped up in Kurt everywhere. Feels them moving together, feels the sparks going up his spine, the liquid warmth pooling in his stomach and the fire rushing through his veins. Holds Kurt's gaze, Kurt's pupils blown wide and eyes a deep deep blue, before pulling him in for another messy, too-feeling kiss. It feels so right to be with Kurt like this. For the first time since the world shook up around them, Blaine feels  _right_.

And he breathes. 

Kurt shifts them, moves in with more purpose, faster, harder. He slips a hand between them and starts jerking Blaine off. Blaine can hear himself letting out high gasping moans and incoherent pleas. His legs fall open wider, too overwhelmed to keep them up, and he feels Kurt's hummingbird heartbeat right next to his own.

The world explodes into a million pieces when he comes. Vaguely he registers Kurt following him while he floats, feels like his brain got knocked off-kilter. Kurt collapses on him, breathing heavily and Blaine wraps his legs around him again, holds him close.

They lie there a few minutes, panting and Kurt tries to pull away, as though to get off of him. Blaine holds on tighter, doesn't think he'll ever get enough of holding him. Kurt has to be back in New York soon, he'll be leaving again in two days and Blaine just _needs_ him.

"Can we just stay a little longer like this?" he asks, a little desperately. "A few more minutes?"

"Of course, Blaine," Kurt says gently, settling on him again; his heartbeat against Blaine's, creating a strange drumbeat rhythm of their own. "Anything you want."

Blaine holds him as the world slowly snaps back together, becomes less hazy. He feels worn down and bone-deep tired. He can only guess how much more exhausted Kurt must feel. 

"We should sleep," he says blinking sleepily. "You need sleep too, Kurt." He hears Kurt snort and feels him stifle a laugh against his neck.

"That's exactly what I  _was_  doing before _someone_  decided to wake me up to have their wicked way with me," Kurt says teasingly, and god, it's so nice to hear him tease again. He pulls out of Blaine's arms and goes to find a washcloth to clean them up.

Blaine feels bereft already.

Kurt returns and gently runs the cloth over them, cleaning them up before giving in to Blaine's wordless scrabbling and settling in behind him, slotting their bodies together. He pulls up the sheets over them and molds himself to Blaine's back, one arm around the curve of his waist, one leg wrapped around him and nose buried in his soft curls. 

Blaine leans back into the warm embrace, feels Kurt's lips softly, sleepily moving up his shoulder blade. He closes his eyes and breathes.


End file.
